


tequila

by monstermash



Series: kiss your knuckles [5]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Trans Male Character, V is trans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-06-25 19:12:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19752049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monstermash/pseuds/monstermash
Summary: “I mean, not really? But also yes.”





	tequila

**Author's Note:**

> i've left this in my drafts for so long that i forgot where i was gonna go with this

It’s been literal decades since it happened, but even now, Johnny can’t stand the sight of tequila.

(He’s sure that he’d hate the smell of it too if he could, y’know, actually still _could.)_

The corpo sitting across from V – someone V had sort of worked with before Johnny came into the picture – slides over a shot of the stuff, some of it sloshing over the side and leaving a trail.

She’s Militech which only makes her slightly more bearable than if she were Arasaka, but still.

A corpo is a corpo is a corpo; different name, same bullshit.

V looks down at the shot and then back up at the corpo who just grins. It’s a shark-like thing, more like baring her teeth than an actual grin, but Johnny thinks he can give her a few points for having a backbone of fucking steel; she doesn’t fit in at this kind of place – barely lit, dick jokes carved on the tabletops, old and new bloodstains that will never wash away – and she knows it, but can’t be bothered to give two shits. She’s here for a _reason_ and her relaxed posture alone says that a few punks in a dive bar in the Northside District aren’t enough to scare her off.

If she ever decides to make a career change, Johnny thinks she could give Rogue a run for her money as the toughest Solo in Night City.

“What do you want, Stout?” V asks, his gaze never wavering from Stout’s face while Johnny keeps his attention fixed on her two bodyguards who stand behind her.

“I’m here to make a deal.”

Maybe it’s just paranoia – something that followed him home from his time during the last Central Conflict – and it’ll probably jinx them if he so much as thinks it, but Johnny doesn’t like this.

Something’s up.

No one in the bar is looking their way. More specifically, it feels like the handful of other people here tonight are _intentionally_ ignoring what’s going on. 

V’s shoulders tense ever so slightly before relaxing; good, he’s noticed too.

“A deal about what? Got another thief you can’t catch?”

A slight twitch in her right eye and yeah, that grin is definitely just her baring her teeth now. V must’ve struck a nerve.

“A deal about what you’ve found,” Stout corrects as she leans back in her seat. “I know you’re the one who’s been raiding Arasaka’s archives.”

Soul Killer. She’s talking about Soul Killer. About who is actually piloting Tetsuo Arasaka.

Despite how much Johnny would love to see Militech and Arasaka tear each other apart, he doesn’t trust _any_ corpo with that program.

“Don’t take the deal,” Johnny says, leaning forward to try and look V in the eye as much as he can at this angle.

V just taps his thumb against the rim of his still full shot glass; he knows and agrees, but they’ve got to play this right. Stout doesn’t strike Johnny as the type to take _‘No’_ for an answer when she’s got her eyes on the prize.

“Got no idea what you’re talkin’ about,” V says to Stout as blandly as possible.

Johnny has to admit, V has a pretty damn good poker face.

Unfortunately, it’s not good enough, not this time.

Stout drops the shark grin and rolls her eyes. She snaps her fingers, nodding at V, and her two bodyguards start moving.

“I was willing to do this nicely, but you’re _really_ testing my patience here,” Stout sighs while looking bored.

Bored because she thinks that this’ll go quickly and in her favor, like most people do when they try double crossing V.

But it won’t, because Stout – like the others who were dumb enough or just too damn arrogant – aren’t expecting Johnny. He can’t use weapons or go in fists swinging like he’d like to, but he’s gotten better with the cards he’s been dealt.

All he needs is decent proximity to someone else’s personal Net to fuck their shit up, or at least cause them enough problems to buy V some time.

“Flip the table over and I’ll deal with their optics,” Johnny says, already reaching out to mess with what makes those infrared optic mods work. “It should be enough time to get to the door.”

V nods, hands gripping the edge of the table as he starts moving.

\---

Johnny can already tell that V hates the job.

Sure, it isn’t wetwork, not necessarily.

But it’s got Posers.

He still doesn’t quite know the reason why V avoids having to deal with Posers as much as he does – especially considering they’re in Night City; you can’t throw a brick here without hitting at least one of ‘em – but then again, it’s not like Johnny has exactly shared about his distaste for having tequila anywhere near him.

Of course, as much as V would rather not deal with anything that involves Posers, he will make an exception for a lot of eddies. Which is exactly what a distraught parent offers him when their daughter has apparently joined some sort of roller derby cult that involves a Poser gang for a band from the 1970s.

Johnny wishes he was making this up, but this _is_ Night City, and it’s honestly not even the strangest thing he’s heard about. Or to sort of deal with by association.

“What the fuck kind of gang name is _‘The Lynyrd Skynners’?”_

One of Johnny’s eyebrows rise in question. “Do you really wanna know?”

V’s face twists up in thought.

“I mean, not really? But also yes.”

\---

The bouncers give V a weird look but let him in anyway.

So far there’s no sight of any Lynyrd Skynyrd posers, just a horde of young women out on the roller rink, and a couple of men dancing on top of a raised platform in the middle. Hell, the music isn’t even Southern rock or blues and Johnny’s beginning to wonder if they even have the right place or—

“Do you think the info was bad?” V whispers, looking just as confused as Johnny feels.

“Maybe?” Johnny glances over at the crowded roller rink; the only change is that the dancing men have started stripping. “This place just looks like a club with a weird theme.”

V sighs, sounding incredibly resigned, and heads over to the bar where he flags down the bar tender – who also gives him the same weird look like the bouncers did, but she serves him anyway, setting out the three shots V orders for himself.

“I swear to god, if this is just another case of _‘overprotective parent can’t handle their kid going out clubbing’_ I’m charging the client double.” V knocks back the shot and taps it twice against the bar top. “I’m not a rich kid babysitter.”

“Don’t have the sense of adventure for it?” Johnny teases as he leans against the bar next to V, keeping an eye on the bartender and the exit; it’s probably not necessary, but those looks don’t sit well with him.

V snorts.

“More like they _couldn’t_ pay me enough to deal with their sheltered asses.” V looks at him, a faint smile on his face.

“Sounds like you’re talking from experience.”

“One of the first jobs Jackie and I took was—” The smile falls from V’s face, only to be replaced by a wide eyed, vaguely horrified expression as he looks at something over Johnny’s shoulder. “Holy shit.”

Confused – because what could possibly be happening on a roller rink that could make V look like that – Johnny turns to look and—

Well. That’s… something.

“Exotic fashion sure has changed,” Johnny comments wryly. It definitely makes the Top 5 on his list of weird shit he’s seen in his life.

“I think I might cry,” V says, face pinching in discomfort as the dancers continue taking their skin of as if it were clothing. One of them even swings the skin from the top half of their body around before tossing it into the now excited crowd. “Like, full on tears.”

“I’ve got a shoulder right here for you if you need it.” Johnny laughs when V tries elbowing him in the ribs. “Hey, at least the name makes sense now. Not Posers, just weirdos who like peeling their skin off.”

“I think I’d prefer Posers,” V mutters before downing his last two shots in quick succession. “This shit is nightmare fuel.”

“Good thing I don’t dream.”

“Fuck off.”

**Author's Note:**

> the roller rink w/ dudes peeling their skin off comes from the [Rock DJ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnO3nijfYmU) music video. plus it fits since body sculpting & "exotic fashion" surgeries are a whole Thing in [Cyberpunk 2020](https://www.pdfdrive.com/cyberpunk-2020-e33442665.html)


End file.
